


Lingering Taste Of Whiskey

by thefox_writes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Jesse McCree, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Revenge, Slow Burn, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefox_writes/pseuds/thefox_writes
Summary: Memories of his deceased partner haunted Jesse McCree. Trying to find closure via lost footage in Echo's databanks only made it worse. Her life hadn't been lost to the horrors of war; it was taken in cold blood.  Blinded by revenge and the need for answers, McCree set off to get revenge and hopefully lay his partner's spirit to rest.What he didn’t expect was that his path would converge with a disgraced archer named Hanzo who seeks to clear his family’s name. A cowboy looking for revenge, and an archer looking for redemption form an unlikely team that realizes that some things refused to be buried
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Original Female Character(s), Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Just One Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give a huge shout to sea_fics & Paul for being my beta readers!
> 
> If heaven's grief brings hell's rain  
> Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday  
> -Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

_Broody isn’t a good look on you. Jesse? Hey, cowboy._

_Jesse!_

Blinking rapidly, the man found his focus coming back to him as he took in the blue digital eyes who looked him over with a frown that almost caused him to look away. Echo hovered lightly in front of him, a clear look of worry over the holographic face. Having been snapped back to reality, he averted his gaze to blink back a few tears that threatened him but they relented. It was a move he was sure she would question, but the desert sun caused her suit to shine so brightly that its almost blinding nature would be a good excuse as any to use if need be.

After finding Echo and getting her away from Ashe, he knew it was selfish of him to ask for her databanks. But he thought perhaps this would stop the visions he was having. Stop all the dreams, even nightmares that kept plaguing him. He wanted to see the last few moments before his partner died, maybe even get some sense of closure instead of the news he heard in the medical ward. The omnic was confused at such a request but relented nonetheless,however, even McCree didn’t expect to find what he did. He thought his partner, Cara, died from the cold truth of war. Yet, that’s not what Echo had on video in her databanks. He just wanted to see her again, maybe get the ghost of her memories to stop haunting him. Instead, he got to watch her murder. 

Echo’s sleek white hand reached out to take hold of the red serape. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she murmured to him. She looked at the silver metal that covered his forearm, his fingers twitching as though he could feel it.

The scene played over and over in his head. His partner’s eyes widened with horror and realization as she screamed for her attacker to reconsider. Her face was mixed with tears and blood from some sort of head wound. She had broken her right wrist, using only her left arm to keep herself up from the concrete floor. He could only surmise that it was on some rooftop, air ships whirling through the background as smoke was rising from below. The said attacker was out of frame. Only their gun, which was pointed at Cara, was visible. Echo’s software was able to read the serial number that was on the side of the gun, displaying it off to the side. It seemed like a human finger on the trigger, yet it wasn’t enough for him to get any other trace of who it could be. “Please! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Cara had begged before the explosion took over the camera. The smoke and rubble didn’t stop whoever it was to release a gunshot. A scream, the sound of concrete breaking and pulling apart, then nothing.

“Cowboy, I need you to take a few deep breaths. Your stress levels are rising.” Echo attempted to comfort him in the best way she knew how, only for his metal arm to pull from her gentle grasp.

“Jesse, please.” She said, her eyes taking in his still form. She knew that while she could process a million situations and stimuli all at once, this was too much for a human to handle. “You’re going to have a panic attack.”

His teeth showed as he growled back, “That’s what you’re worried about? My panic attack?” A pitiful attempt at a laugh escaped his lips as finally he reached for a cigar from his pocket. His gloved hand trembled slightly; at least his robotic one kept the lighter still as he lit it. The drag he took only made his mind take a moment’s reprieve from the thoughts that circled his head. Echo wanted to chide him about his drug use, she decided it was best not to. 

He wondered if this was why she seemed to haunt his dreams. Even sometimes hear her voice drift past his ears that he would look around for a small hint of her.

 _You always were stubborn, Cara.._.

Echo tried to think of a logical solution to this problem. “We could go to Overwatch about this.”

“They’re gone, Echo. Scattered to the wind. Besides, there are worse things on the horizon. You think anyone is going to...” He drifted off at the thought. No one was going to take their time to hunt down whoever took his partner’s life. The living world needed priority over one dead person. If she was going to finally get any peace, he figured that he was going to take that burden. Perhaps this would make up for everything she had done for him. The explosion shone in his mind’s eye again, that his face scrunched up with a mix of grief and anger. 

McCree sniffed, ignoring that weirdly familiar dust that hung in the air. His brown eyes took in Ashe’s motorcycle, the cherry red and yellow flames screaming for him to ride like hell. 

“Echo, darlin’.” The robot gave a small tilt of her head at him, seemingly already not wanting to hear whatever was about to tumble out of his lips. “They need you way more than they need me.” He breathed, the smoke slithering out from rough lips as he walked towards the bike. She blinked, a habit she picked up once she figured out that it scared some of the others that she didn’t. “And where are you going?”

A smile came over his lips as he sat himself down on the warm leather. “I have things I need to take care of. Say hi to the monkey for me.”

“Monkey?”

The cowboy chuckled as he took the cigar out of his mouth. “Scientist, whatever.” He threw the cigar back into his mouth as he cranked the motorcycle back to life. 

Echo frowned as she watched. She floated over to him, observing his actions that he paused from riding away. “Do you at least know where you’re going?” She finally asked. 

Jesse nodded. “She died in Morocco. A weapons dealer that got away that night. He’s still there. I know he came back once our unit left for Italy. Reyes wanted to head back to check on him once we were done.”

“And did you?”

There was so much she didn’t know yet. Jesse wanted to tell her but that was time being wasted. “No, no we did not. Once you find the rest of the gang, they’ll fill you in. And Echo...”

She blinked again, waiting for him. “Hm?”

“Say hi to everyone for me. Don’t tell them what I’m up to. For me, please?”

She paused. The omnic looked up towards the sky as a hawk echoed through the canyon. “I don’t know if I can promise you that.” She turned her gaze back to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Just please call if you need us.”

He tipped his hat to her, “Of course darlin’ They just need you more than they need me anyways. They’ll be happy to see you again.” He managed to pull a little smirk for her but her programming wished to believe it was real. 

She floated back away from him as the cowboy then took his leave. Dust flared up as he sped away, the omnic watching as he drove down the highway. She processed what she could with the variables given to her. There wasn’t enough to give her a solid reading. She hoped he was going to be okay. This Jesse McCree was different. He wasn’t joyful or sarcastic. He seemed hardened, almost bitter. Whatever task he was now on sounded like it could be the death of him. 

With that, the omnic flew up into the sky to go after the new signal. As she flew as fast as she could, her mind was already downloading what was left of the Overwatch servers to see what she missed while she was asleep. 

The flight to Morocco finally gave him enough reprieve to catch a moment's rest. He wore simple jeans and a red shirt with a fake Native American symbol with an alien in the center, the words “Roswell, New Mexico” printed in golden yellow at the bottom of it. He also opted for a black baseball cap that had the Route 66 logo on it. The lights went dark on the plane, the speakers cutting in to remind the passengers that it was time to sleep if they so choose to. Jesse McCree was already six bottles of whiskey shots into the flight. He figured a little snooze wouldn’t hurt. He barely had gotten any sleep since receiving this new information that Echo provided. Hopefully the airplane whiskey would be enough for him to stay asleep the rest of the flight.

\---

“Let me out!” Jesse McCree yelled at the metal door. His hands were still bound together no matter how hard he fought the magnetic cuffs. At this point, the 17-year-old Jesse McCree was so tired that he finally sat himself down on the flimsy metal chair they had provided him in the cell after making him stand around for the last 8 hours. 

After a bust, Overwatch took him in. Ashe and a couple of others got away. Him? Well, he got a little distracted. Speaking of distraction...the door slid open to reveal said distraction. 

It was a girl he met at the diner before his whole crew was busted. She wore denim cutt-offs, hiking boots, and a light flannel shirt that seemed worn and bleached from the sun. She had asked him for directions as she seemed to have gotten lost. She told him that she’s been walking a great deal and needed help getting back on track. Ashe had scoffed at her lightly but McCree, being the western gentleman that he was - and couldn’t say no to a lovely lady - decided to help her. It wasn’t too long later the same woman who was talking about some “nature retreat” in the desert had him pinned on the ground with the same hiking boots keeping his head down and arms behind his back.

Her dark skin was now covered by official Overwatch training clothes. Her hair hung loosely in waves instead of the messy bun she had put it in earlier. Jesse glared her down. “You’re breaking my heart, darlin’. I was really lookin’ forward to seein’ what retreat you were staying at.”  
  


The woman raised a fine eyebrow at him, “Oh? If you want, I can send you information about that nature retreat.”

“So you weren’t lying about that?”

“Oh, no, it exists. I just had other plans obviously.” She mused with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

Jesse didn’t want to admit how he almost smiled in that moment. She was clever, he’d give her that. Later on, he would love it and sometimes hate it at the same time. 

“Look, I’m here to help you --”

“Funny.”

“If you could listen...” Her tone was calm but held a bite of warning behind it. “Look, there was a reason that you got taken here instead of where your friends are.”

Jesse found himself freezing. Ashe? Colin? Bob? They got away. He saw them escaping off on their bikes. They were far too smart to get caught now. She had to be lying again, but with the way she seemed almost eerily calm, he knew she wasn’t. He looked away from her, deciding to stare at the rivets on the outline of the wall. 

The woman decided to continue. “You’re different. I saw that and so does my boss. He wants to talk to you, give you a deal.”

Jesse spat at her feet. “No deal.”

Before he even had another thought, the chair went tipping backwards. The woman had used her foot to pull harshly on the bottom lip; he went crashing back on the floor with a small thud. She rested her foot on the chair, leaning over to look down at him with a rather unimpressed look. She took a deep breath to center herself. “Don’t be an idiot.” she crossed her arms. “He hasn’t even told you the deal, so I don’t know why you’re arguing with me about it beforehand.”

Jesse still didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze stubbornly away. She didn’t say anything for a short moment. The quietness came creeping back and he realized he would rather hear her voice than numbing silence. As he turned his head to look at her again, he met her green hues just observing him. “It’s not polite to stare.” He snapped.

“It’s also not polite to spit at people.”

“It’s also not polite to lie to people.”

“It’s also not polite to be stealing weapons from people.”

They both narrowed their eyes at the same time before the door sliding open caused the woman to jump. She moved away from the downed cowboy only for a burly man to come walking in. McCree recognized him. He was the one that came out of an airship when the bust happened. 

“Agent Fleur.” The man said, the woman giving a respectful nod. She looked from the man to McCree for a moment. Her voice seemed to be stronger. Not as gentle and light as it was before when talking to the man who adjusted the beanie on his head. “He requested water, Commander Reyes. May I get him some?” she asked him. McCree thought about saying something but decided against it. He actually did feel a bit thirsty. All the yelling and tussle that had happened over the last couple of hours did a number on him. 

The man nodded. “Yes. Be quick.” The woman named Agent Fleur shot him with a quick wink once the commander turned his back to her. 

It wasn’t too long later that McCree had learned that Agent Fleur was actually a woman named Cara D’Angeline. Only a year older than him, and yet she was tasked to keep him in line as he took the deal that Commander Reyes gave him: either join Overwatch or rot in a cell. 

\--

“Passengers, please get ready for landing.” 

McCree was halfway through a snore as he heard the pilot’s voice over the intercom. He looked around for a moment, watching a few of the passengers rearrange themselves to prepare for landing. His brown eyes fell on a man across the aisle who seemed a little annoyed at him. Was he snoring that loud? Half attempting to close the seat tray with sleep still in his eyes, he forgot about some of the empty mini whiskey bottles that were sitting there that were then knocked off onto the blue generic floor. 

“Er..”

Letting his body do a big stretch, he kicked the ones he couldn’t reach under the seat in front of him. That’s why they had cleaning teams, right? 

As they finally began their landing, the cowboy couldn’t help but to stare idly out the window as he watched as airships whizzed across the city’s expansive skyline. There was a small glow that hovered over the landscape from the city lights. Some of it disappeared behind various skyscrapers and buildings during their descent onto the landing strip. He swallowed as he thought of the day he found out about Cara’s death. He wondered if her body was ever recovered. If she was buried out here in the sand or if it actually was taken back home. He was too distraught at the time to actually look into it. Thankfully the small rattle of the plane as they hovered close to the ground shook him out of the thought, his focus slowly returning to him as he listened to the engines hum to a small purr as they finally came to a full stop. 

He waited a few moments, letting the other passengers around him get their luggage from the overhead compartment. He pulled out a knapsack, almost forgetting the weight of it until it fell back a little too far. A hmph! Sounded behind him causing McCree to quickly turn just in time to catch the disgruntled gaze of an Asian man who grumbled at him. McCree gave him a sheepish smile. “I am so sorry about that.” 

The man just stared at him pointedly before nodding. “It’s okay. Just be careful,” he said in a stern yet soft voice. Oddly enough, McCree almost felt as if he knew this man in some fashion. His mind wandered for a moment, it found nothing. The man had a small dark updo, a finely trimmed beard that defined his chiseled jaw. There was a silver piercing on each side of the bridge of the man’s nose. The man raised an eyebrow at McCree, who realized he was staring a little too long. Awkwardly turning his gaze, McCree slipped the bag over his shoulder and gave a shrug for good measure. 

The airport was buzzing for 10 o’clock at night. He knew Morocco was a huge hotspot for travel and business alike. He was just hoping for an easy way to end the night. Settle into a nice hotel to get a plan together. He let things roll around in his head as he made his way towards the luggage carousel. The same man he had accidentally hit was also waiting there. His arms were crossed with lips pressed together in a thin line as he watched the carousel give a happy little jingle as it turned on. Jesse knew that usually a person would avoid someone they accidentally smacked with a bag, yet he parked himself right next to him instead. 

Grey eyes turned to look at him for a split second before turning back at the sight of luggage appearing on the turntable. _‘Must be important,’_ McCree thought, aching for a smoke right about now.

His mind was still whirling. Finally, McCree decided that since he couldn’t smoke yet, he’d just whistle instead. And so with pursed lips he whistled faintly to himself, mimicking the sound of the carousel until he noticed the man next to him give a little twitch. McCree tried to hide the amused smile on his lips at the man beside him keeping his composure. It was just harmless whistling. 

“ _Kuso_.” The man finally exasperated. McCree stopped whistling almost immediately. McCree knew fully what that meant after being around Genji for so long. So he was Japanese. Did he know any other Japanese Overwatch agents from his Overwatch days? Probably. All he could think about was Genji’s string of curses that he would lash out when hitting his limit. After a while, he even began saying Swiss ones thanks to a certain medic. 

“Can you,” the man took a deep breath, “not whistle right now? It’s very annoying.”

McCree pulled his gaze from the line of bags and gave a small apologetic smile. “Sorry. I guess I’m just not doing well by you today, am I?”

Annoyed silence was his only reply.

As McCree opened his mouth to say something, the man walked forward to grab a blue duffle bag with a swift and quick motion by the handles. The duffle bag was rather large and wrinkled with the items inside pushing on the fabric. Though as the man left, McCree noticed a curved outline at the bottom of the bag along with a few little holes. 

_How interesting.._

Finally, McCree noticed a metal hatbox come around the turntable; McCree grabbed it quickly. The metal hat box had a red beaded horse keychain that still stood strong on the handle of it. Another flight 

it had survived on. He smiled down at the sight of it. He rolled his fingers over the beads. The smile disappeared from his face before shaking his head as a memory threatened to surface again. 

It was time to get things rolling. 


	2. Gun in My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my beta readers. 
> 
> Why did love put a gun in my hand?  
> Was it for redemption? Was it for revenge?  
> Was it for the thrill of pushing my hope to the edge?  
> Gun in My Hand - Dorothy

The woman gave a sleepy yet content breath as she brought a hand up to run through his hair. Jesse pressed his lips lovingly into the curve of her neck. He couldn’t help the smile that came over his features before placing another kiss against a burst of freckles on her shoulder. 

“G’mornin,’” he murmured to her quietly, wrapping his arms around her torso before his fingers began to trace the outline of the wildflowers that were tattooed against her rib cage. She kept playing with his hair, her green hues opening to take in the sun that flooded into her room. McCree didn’t move, not yet. He always had a hard time letting her go on the days she left for a mission. Was it selfish of him? Perhaps. After the incident he had with the rest of Blackwatch in Italy, he felt like any mission that Reyes gave them was a ticking time bomb. Cara was one of Reyes’ most trusted recruits. Then again, he didn’t imagine Reyes would send her into anything that she couldn’t handle. Well, that’s what he thought anyway. 

“Good morning, darling.” She murmured to him, moving to look at him as she ran a gentle thumb over his cheek, his head nestled quite comfortably into the nook of her arm. He turned his head up, taking in her sleepy smile and her waves spread against the pillow. Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. A hum escaped her as she returned it. 

“Jesse, you can’t keep me here.” She muttered against his lips.

He chuckled, low and soft. He swung his leg over her hips, keeping her below him as he placed kisses from her lips, over the hill of her chin, and to the valley of her chest. She gave a small laugh as her hands slid in into his, only for him to lightly pin them down. “What about now?” He asked her, moving his head back up to steal another kiss from her. 

“Still have to go to Morocco.” 

He took in her image. The way her green eyes brightened with her smile. Her black hair waving over the white sheets and her beautiful brown skin looking golden with the morning sunlight washing over it. 

He pressed his forehead against hers, one of her hands escaping to cup his cheek. He took a deep breath before saying, “You come back to me, ya hear? Be safe.”

—

_ Authorities are still looking into the Overwatch museum incident in Australia where sources say that a few members of Overwatch intervened… _

McCree found his face smushed into a pillow that was a captive in his arms. Lifting his head lightly, he saw the tv screen show Tracer and Winston’s face as a news anchor began to go off about some break in. 

We have a museum? McCree thought as he watched the screen flip to footage of the fight itself. A man with a skull mask showed up. McCree narrowed his eyes as the way the man twisted to shoot a shotgun reminded him of Reyes. That was impossible though, there had been an explosion at the base where he was going against Morrison. He couldn’t survive that. 

The echo of an assault rifle clip sounded, causing him to look at the sight of the woman on the screen. He sat up quickly, eyes glued on a blue skinned woman who held an assault rifle. It wasn’t just any gun though. An angry snarl almost erupted from his throat. That assault rifle was one of a kind. It was an auto assault rifle that could then slip into a deadly accurate sniper rifle. 

Cara’s pride and joy.

—

“Oh, this?” Cara held up the red rifle, a sense of joy written across her face. She held it up, pulling a trigger to extend the barrel to a sniper position. “My mother was the one who helped me with it. After her time in the service, she decided to teach me how to aim. “

Her fingers rolled over a red and white sun against the side of it. It was the same symbol that Cara had on the inside of her right arm. “It’s a Chickasaw symbol. My mother had helped to take back land for the Louisiana Reservation.”

“And your dad?” McCree asked. 

“A baker. A damn good one at that. If you can last a week without firing Gabe up about something, I’ll get him to send us some beignets.”

—

That was all the motivation the man needed to get ready for the day. That woman shouldn’t have her gun. It should’ve stayed buried. If that got out of the rubble, then her body should’ve too. His lips twitched into a snarl. Anger began to stir in his chest, spreading to tense shoulders and scratch at his throat. The thought of her being left under that rubble, dust, and dirt. The thought she could never come home. 

“AGH!” He threw the pillow with all that he could, letting it slam into the screen. It disappointingly plopped on to the carpet, the tv still spouting off about the break in. Pushing himself on to his feet, McCree quickly threw back the covers as he trudged his way towards the bathroom. Splashing water onto his face, he rubbed away whatever jet lag and sleep had hung around. Sliding his finger onto the mirror, he held it as the mirror then displayed different features for him to look at. Weather, News, front desk, and so on displayed digitally against the mirror. Glancing to the clock in the right hand corner, McCree thought about the information he knew. During the plane ride to Morocco, he had called on a special friend to look into it. A woman named Sombra sent him some files and threatened that if he did anything stupid, she wasn’t helping him. She wouldn’t say what she was up to. Never did, though she did ask why he needed it all so suddenly. He just told her a thing to bury. How this weapons dealer was getting too big for his britches. She seemed to have believed it and let him have it. 

The weapons dealer was a man named Jericho. He had gotten away during the failed mission that Cara was last on. Not too long ago, he had appeared back on the black market- a little over a year if his files were accurate - which he had no doubt that they were. Sombra was always scary accurate. He never asked her how she knew all of it; he knew it was best not to ask about it. All Jesse really needed to know was that he would be by the port, overlooking a shipment that was supposed to go out three days from now. From there he’d decided that once the sun had set would be the best time for him to sneak in, due to the change in guard shifts. 

A breath left McCree as he turned the shower on, enjoying the calming heat of the water. Hopefully, tonight will finally end everything. He could move on.

—

While he’d not been outside for long, the sharp biting rays of the Moroccan sun were unmistakable, though he was beyond thankful for the shade his cowboy hat provided and that the heat was already starting to dwindle. Keeping his head low, McCree waited for a bit against a tree as his brown eyes focused on the shipyard’s entrance. Any moment now he thought, his fingers rolling over Peacekeeper that sat in his holster. Feeling the familiar metal, his mind stopped at a chip at it’s handle. He let the divit roll over his finger for a second as finally a large truck came into view. 

“Good lord.” He huffed to himself, pulling out his gun as the truck rumbled over the road. Holding up his gun, he let it move in motion of the truck before finally letting off a shot. It echoed, McCree already familiar with it’s shout. The truck’s back tire suddenly gave off a pop, the driver trying to correct themselves as they began to swerve lightly. The driver slammed on the brakes as it neared the front gate, the guards throwing their hands up while they yelled at them to stop. McCree made his move, keeping himself low as he came closer to the guard post. The driver hopped out of the truck, Arabic being thrown angrily into the heat as they went to check on what happened. This would at least block anyone else trying to get in for a few moments. Less people the better. McCree waited to make sure the guards were fully distracted before slipping behind the guard post and vaulting himself over the small cement barricade. 

The port seemed normal. Tons of shipping containers, the squeaks of seagulls, and a weird smell of something rotten mixed with the salt from the sea. Thankfully, just as he’d begun to make his move the streetlights clicked on at the last of the sun extinguished itself beyond the horizon. Finally, natural cover to get him through the rest of this mission. He began to make his move, trying to find out where Port 8 could possibly be in this large shipyard. 

Quickly getting his bearings, he found himself towards the southernmost part of the port, hiding behind a few crates that had a happy fluffy golden dog plastered on the center of it. MccCree was very confused, as “Teddy’s Treats” were far from what he’d expected to find. The confusion quickly dissipated, however, as his eyes had instinctively wandered to a heavily armed guard walking past. Remaining still for just a moment until the guard had moved well out of earshot, curiosity once again got the better of the cowboy as he began to pull on a loose wooden edge of one of the crates. Managing to make a small hole, he then used the flashlight on his phone to see barrels of stacked guns pointed at him from inside the crate. 

“Ah, okay.” He murmured to himself before turning it off and making his way towards a small building in the center. Leaning against the metal container closest to him, he peered around to see a tall, slender man. He fixed the band of his watch against his tan skin, as he talked about the upcoming shipment. McCree found his blood starting to boil.

Jericho. 

His black beard was finely trimmed. What stood out was an almost star like scar against the base of his neck. Did Cara get a shot on him? He knew that she sometimes aimed for the neck in order to have a full exit wound. If that was the case, could it actually be Jericho that killed her? He shook off the doubt as he kept a grip on his gun. No, he had to do this. 

“Have we heard anything from the Shimadas?” Jericho asked an omnic who was trailing behind him. The omnic scrolled through his data pad before replying, “No, sir.” Jericho hummed as his response. 

Shimada? Like Genji Shimada? He wondered how common the name was. Could there be multiple families within the Yakuza tied to the Shimada name?. Stepping closer, Jesse’s tunnel vision caused him to accidentally knock off a loose metal rod that was lying on top of a bench. The man went to try and catch it, not being able to stop the loud echo that jumped off the other metal containers. He ducked, keeping his gun against his chest. 

Shit shit shit!

He looked up, seeing an arrow come flying at him causing him to hit the deck in just enough time for it to miss his face by mere inches. Looking up a second time, he saw a man drop down. McCree blinked, unsure of how to react to the sight of the Asian man from the plane yesterday with a full metal arrow drawn straight at him. McCree let his eyes wander quickly to his gun, using it as a mirror as he heard voices coming closer. Sure enough, two guards were coming this way. Wonderful, now he was between some whistle hating archer and two heavily armed guards. 

“Lower your weapon.” The archer ordered sternly. 

McCree looked at the small space underneath a container stacked on wooden palettes next to him before looking back at the man. He shrugged. “Okay.” 

Throwing his gun under the container, McCree quickly rolled under the container as well and popped up on the other side, gun in hand. Quickly rising to his feet, McCree was able to surprise another guard who jolted back in a scare. McCree then leaned forward to grab the man by the collar of the shirt to slam his head hard into the metal. He would be alone for only a moment, McCree took off at a run as he tried to calculate how to get his man while also dealing with this new enemy. Was he some bodyguard of Jericho? He should’ve hit him harder on the plane. Feeling as though he’d finally broken the range of the other in-coming guard, McCree leaned against a crate, taking a breath. He looked around to see Jericho quickly trying to rush off with the omnic also following closely behind. Two guards accompanied him, he wondered how many were still around. They disappeared from view, looking like they were making their way to the port over. 

"C'mon, Jess, it's just a few arrows, you've been hit by worse," he muttered to himself, the words just barely melting off the tip of his tongue before the sight of another arrow slicing through the sky came over his head and he felt the breeze through his hat. He saw the arrow dig deep into a stack of barrels as a light buzzing sound filled his ears. 

Yet before he knew it, the shrill of yet another arrow going past caused McCree to hold his head down, as he saw an arrow dig deep into a stack of barrels. A sonic arrow? Realization quickly slapped McCree in the face as he got down on some cover. This man could continue to keep hunting him down. It was going to be hard to lose him in the port if he kept using sonic arrows. Seeing a guard round the corner, McCree let out a shot that struck straight into the man’s chest. He needed to get going or else. Glancing around, he kept himself low as his mind calculated his escape. Finally coming to a small clearing between the seemingly endless row of containers, McCree gave a quick roll to his left before vaulting himself up and over one of the safety railings blocking his path only to break out in a very short but full sprint that hopefully created some distance, dipping himself finally around another corner and in between yet another set of containers. This was  _ not _ how he'd planned for this to go down. He stayed between the two stacks containers as he kept his gun with him and began to move again until hearing the familiar whizz of some arrows flying past that he turned to let off a few rounds at the archer. He managed to get the man on his cheek, the archer bringing a hand up to inspect the new cut before taking out two arrows. 

“Fuck.”

Two guards suddenly shouted, “Hey, you!” 

McCree took a flashbang, throwing it at the archer and giving a clear shot for it to go off in front of the Archer’s face. McCree then ran forward from where he came as the archer still let off his next shot. Ducking out of habit, McCree could hear what almost sounded like heavy raindrops behind him. He turned around only to see multiple arrows ricochet off the alley of containers that went into the guards. If he wasn’t afraid for his life and the need to finish this mission, he would admit how impressed he was by that little trick. 

McCree quickly used the next available opening to dip his way out from between the containers and into a small clearing where he began making his way off towards where he’d last seen Jericho headed. Unfortunately, yet another guard came into his view. McCree sliding, sent his spur straight through the man’s calf without any hesitation. The man hit the ground with a pained yelp that was suddenly drowned by another whiz of an arrow. 

“I’m just making it easy for him.” He huffed only for an arrow to go through the metal of McCree’s arm. Panic clamped down on him now. He needed to get rid of this man. Coming to a halt, he turned to take a shot at the archer who was still on the high ground. McCree took in how fast the man was going, but also noticed that it seemed he wasn’t going after him anymore. Slightly confused and even more curious, McCree slowed himself enough for the archer charge ahead only to quickly begin following him forward several hundred feet to where he noticed that Jericho was almost to a black suburban that roared to life as they got closer. 

“Oh no, you don’t.” He barked, taking a shot that went flying into the archer’s leg. The man slammed down hard on the metal with a groan. The cowboy was not letting him get back to his boss. McCree knew he wasn’t going to get to them in time, but at least he had one less person in his way. He stood ready to draw, brown eyes calculating the shot. If he could just get one well placed shot, he could--

“ Ryuuga wagateki wo kurau!”

Hearing a giant roar, McCree slowly turned around only to see two giant spiraling dragons come barreling towards him. He quickly dove out of the way, only for pain to shoot up from his left leg. His breath caught in his throat. Looking down, he noticed an arrow straight through his thigh. He hissed but kept his head low as the dragons tried to chase after the squealing car. The dragons were a bit too slow for the speeding vehicle. McCree took a shot from the ground, only for it to go through a window. Sadly, it hit no one. 

He slammed a leather fist onto the pavement. “God damn it!”

Using the leftover adrenaline in his body, he took out the arrow that was in his metal arm and then took a deep breath as he pulled the other one out from his thigh. He hissed, trying to ignore the pain as he pushed himself up, ignoring the blood that began to dribble on to his jeans. He then noticed the archer had climbed down from his post, wobbling on his leg as he hit the ground. “You…” McCree growled. 

The archer said something in Japanese that he couldn’t make out. With a grunt, the cowboy shot from the hip. At the same time, the archer also shot an arrow. The arrow bounced off the concrete and knocked the gun from McCree’s hand. The bullet from McCree knocked the bow from the archer’s. They stared at one another for a moment, their tired breaths filling up the quiet Moroccan night. 

“Who do you work for?” The archer finally asked, shaking out his hand from the vibration of the bow. 

McCree narrowed his eyes at him, “Nothin’ you need to concern yourself with.” Though McCree thought about those giant dragons that just appeared and disappeared like nothing. They needed to get out of here before more guards showed up. The archer cursed again before moving to get his bow with a limp. “Then why are you after my target?”

His target? 

Exasperated, McCree let himself a moment reprieve as he laid on the concrete. “You’re not with him?” While he asked this question, he missed the archer sending a look that was a mix of bewilderment and frustration. “With him? No.” The archer then paused a beat before sending a sonic arrow towards the main road of the port. His shoulders sagging lightly. “You thought,” he took the moment to think of how he wanted to say the next sentence in English. “I worked for that man?”

McCree stared up at the night sky, seeing the stars looking back. 

“Well, _ now  _ I don’t.”

The archer pinched the bridge of his nose, “You’re a bigger idiot than I thought.” McCree sat up, his leg sending a quick threat of pain throughout what felt like his entire his body the more the man moved. The roughness of his jeans scratched against the concrete as he went to his good knee, then feet. The archer moved his attention to the direction his arrow had traveled. “I got this.” McCree stated, walking over to where Peacekeeper laid in waiting. He swept Peacekeeper up, unlatching the chamber to let the shells rain down before slamming a new round into the chamber. 

The archer moved his gaze back to McCree before stating, “Five.”

“I can do five.”

That’s when a tan truck came drifting around the corner. Two guards were in the seats of the truck, one mounted with their gun on top, and two off the side. Hanzo quickly took aim at the one that had the gun on the truck’s roof and easily picked them off. McCree took a step forward to the upcoming vehicle. The sound of tires squealing as they came to an abrupt halt. 

The archer looked from McCree and then back to the guards that started to hop out of the truck. “Cowboy..” He warned. 

McCree said nothing as he began to take in the forms of all the guards present. “Easy now. It's high noon.” With that, the man fired off four shots that went flying into each guard’s skull. For a moment only the ring of the revolver echoed through the air as the bodies dropped dead to the floor. The archer stared at the corpses for a moment. “Well then. We should get out while we can.”

With that, the two limped towards the truck. Panicked Arabic sounded out of of a communicator that was attached to one of the men’s bodies. The archer slid into the passenger's seat while McCree slid into the driver’s side with his hat being knocked off from the lip of the door. Quickly catching it, he set it back on top of his head as he slammed the truck into drive. 

“I hope you can shoot out that window, Robin Hood.”

The archer narrowed his eyes at him, “Don’t ever call me that again.”

McCree kept his eyes on the road, “You got it.”

Even as a seemingly bitter silence fell over them in the moments following their escape, McCree almost laughed at the new situation that arose. He'd gone to the port to take a man out, but instead seemed to be leaving with one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Follow me on Twitter at thefox_writes
> 
> I’m also thinking of making a playlist to listen to on Spotify for everyone to listen if they would like.


	3. Torn Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta readers are so wonderful. I love them so much.
> 
> "And it hurts like hell  
> To be torn apart  
> And it hurts like hell  
> To be thrown around  
> Oh, your mark on me  
> The space you used to fill is now this great black hole  
> Oh, you're out of sight but not out of my mind"  
> -Torn Apart by Bastille

Truthfully, not many things made McCree awkward nowadays. Having been both an outlaw and a member of Overwatch meant he’d been in some pretty weird situations, like when he’d accidentally agreed to a certain liaison in Germany’s Red Light District. He didn’t know German, so how was he supposed to know what that man meant? Another was when he got tongue tied suddenly and called horses ‘whores.’ So when he’d finally managed to say, “Yeah, I used to ride whores,” his whole squad wouldn’t let it go for almost a year. This current situation was up there for him. Having someone almost kill you and then sitting with them in a hotel was … interesting. 

The archer had insisted that McCree had to come with him to his hotel. He wasn’t going to lie, it felt a bit sudden, but they were also now likely being tracked down and couldn’t simply run off to each other’s hideout. It took them a bit to get back to the hotel, the morning sunlight seeping through the buildings. But, this archer was a man of higher caliber if he so easily could afford this place. Sitting on a plush ottoman, his brown eyes scaled over the white walls of the room. Gold flecks that were paved into the wall and ceiling bounced the light around to other gold accents of the room. This guy must have some nice money hidden away. At the same time, he had been wondering how either one of them was going to get through the front desk of this seemingly swanky hotel without showing the blood and grime he had on. Fortunately, it seemed pretty easy to slip through security and enter into the room due to each room having its own patio and mini pool. Either way, it was smart and comfortable. 

Once they’d quietly settled in, it wasn’t long before the archer laid out an array of medical supplies on the black granite table. McCree noticed a blue bag slumped against the dresser. He thought about looking through it. See how bad this guy possibly could be. Though, he did help him hide. But an ally could turn into an enemy in a moment’s notice. 

The archer was looking over everything and said over his shoulder, “Does it hurt badly?”

McCree turned his attention back to the man just in time to see the archer shrugging off his jacket to reveal a muscular torso. A white dragon circling around his arm in a swirl of blue and crispy yellow lines went from his shoulder to his wrist. McCree was almost too lost in thought at the sight of it all when the man noticed how long his pause had been and had turned to make sure the cowboy was still alive. McCree blinked rapidly, realizing just how long he’d spaced out for as he rushed to answer. “A-ah, yeah kinda. I’ve been hurt worse so, ya know, I can wait till you’re ready.” 

The archer watched him though, seeing if the cowboy was really as fine as he was saying. McCree just slid his hand into a small pouch on his belt to pull out a cigar. “Mind if I smoke?” The archer shook his head and turned back around. Assuming that was permission, McCree let it lazily hang from his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to think about their next move. He knew that they had to go after Jericho but it would probably be a few days till he felt comfortable to reappear. He didn’t know the archer’s reason for going after Jericho but at this point, the fact he hadn’t tried to kill him since they left the docks was enough to join forces in the meanwhile. 

Just as McCree went for his lighter, the archer cleared his throat to reveal he had a lighter up and ready to go. McCree’s brown eyes widened slightly as he looked at the lighter and then back up to the man. The archer had dark eyes that were fierce yet held a magnificent depth that McCree almost found himself stuck in thought once again. The duo looked at one another for a moment, McCree leaning his head down almost hesitantly. Taking in a drag, he leaned back lightly with his elbow resting on the edge of the bed. He watched the archer flip the lighter close with a click and toss it back on the tabletop with a light clatter. 

“What’s your name?” McCree finally asked, using his metal hand to hold the cigar as he breathed out the smoke. 

“Hanzo.” The archer responded flatly. 

The name Hanzo rushed memories to his mind. During their time together in Overwatch, Genji had often avoided talking about his past, especially didn’t want to talk about why he was now a cyborg. For a while, it was only Dr. Ziegler that understood the pain that Genji had gone through. The Shimada was angry for a long time. But, when he finally began to come around and start to adjust to his new life, he had shared some info with McCree. Truth be told, much of it was now a haze in the cowboy’s mind, but what he did distinctly recall was that Genji had a brother named Hanzo that was seemingly first in line to take over reins of the Shimada Clan. With them, he was going to continue the clan’s dirty dealings. At least, that was the plan anyway. 

“Hanzo, huh?” McCree took another drag of his cigar. “You gotta brother?”

McCree didn’t even get to blow out the smoke before a scalpel was resting against his neck. Hanzo, having turned swiftly in his direction, had a firm grip on the cowboy’s bruised shoulder. McCree fought off wincing from the pain, but that was as good a confirmation as any. He blew the smoke up at the Shimada, watching it flow around his angry face. He didn’t say anything but chewed lightly on the tobacco. “I’m takin’ that as a yes.”

Hanzo dug his thumb into the wound, forcing McCree to finally wince a bit. “Ay, calm down now.”

“How do you know that?” Hanzo hissed. 

The panic that set into the archer’s body wasn’t super apparent; his training made it seem as though he was calm and controlled. Although his movements had been fast, they were precise. McCree brought up his metal hand to take his index finger and push the scalpel away. Hanzo in response, let a brief screech of metal against metal fill the room as he dragged it across the cowboy’s finger. 

“I worked with your brother, Genji.” As McCree began to explain, Hanzo had also begun lightly pulling back. With space widening between them now, McCree took the opportunity to take a firm hold of Hanzo’s wrist and pull it up. The upside to having a metal arm was that he could lock his grip as much as he wanted. Shimada couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. “I would really appreciate that not sittin’ against my neck.”

Hanzo glared at him though, calculating different ways to overtake the cowboy. Take out his arm, kick his feet out that the pain would cause him more focus on his bottom half than the top. However, before he could make his move he found himself staring into the brown eyes of the man and only found gentle curiosity. Hanzo took a deep breath, “Your approach needs work.”

McCree undid his grip, the archer rolling his wrist before turning himself back to the medical supplies. He grabbed a towel, soaking it in peroxide. “You may want to cut your jeans more to clean your wound. You’re not supposed to pull an arrow out of your thigh.” Hanzo picked up the scalpel that he had just threatened the man with and handed it out to him. McCree chewed on the cigar once more and finally took it from his lips, extinguishing it out on the metal of his palm. “Alright.” He took the instrument, twirling it around between her fingers. 

“The name is Jesse McCree by the way.” 

A gruff hum was the only answer he got in return.

Sitting quietly and studying the archer for another moment, Mcree then cut a square of his jeans around the wound, stopping only to take a deep breath at the point where the blood had dried to his skin at the edge of the entrance wound. It was going to hurt taking the pieces of fabric away and the last thing McCree wanted to do was add more blood to the scene. He groaned, pushing himself upwards. Feet screaming from being on them for so long, he ignored it as he took in the room to see a deep tub in a side room peeking from the darkness. Limping towards the bathroom, Hanzo kept his gaze on him to make sure he got there safely. 

McCree looked at the wound before grabbing a towel and soaking it in the glass basin of the sink. He then sat himself up on the rim of the bathtub, soaking the wound for a few moments. Ana had taught him to lightly rub it to get the scabbing blood to come loose. ‘Still hurts like a bitch’ he thought bitterly. But sure enough, it was working although the pain throbbed against his thigh. The tip of the arrow and McCree pulling it out did a number on the ligaments and muscle. This was probably going to leave a scar, but he at least needed to really clean the wound before it got infected. 

Hanzo, on the other hand, was working on his own wounds, his mind racing with many questions and decisions. He didn’t know whether to keep working with this man or not. But, he knew his brother. At least he could find peace in some of the answers that the cowboy might have. Yet, did he really deserve it? He couldn’t help the guilt that circled in his mind. How much did the cowboy know? He held back a wince as he cleaned out one of his wounds, inhaling to steady himself. Through the pain, the archer forced himself to focus on the fact that he could clearly use an extra hand with taking out Jericho. Unfortunately, his stomach growled to snap him out of those thoughts. Room service would suffice the archer. 

“Hey cowboy!” He called out, his eyes remaining fixed on the wound to his calf as he tended it with care until the creak of the bathroom door made the man turn only to see McCree standing there in his shirt and briefs. The right leg was pulled up, exposing the lightly bleeding arrow wound on the thigh. Hanzo found heat quickly rising to his cheeks in shock. “Kuso..” he cursed, looking back at his wound. “Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”

“I thought you would understand there is an entrance wound and an exit wound.” McCree said flippantly. 

Hanzo shot him a look, blue eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Of course I do, you idiot. You could’ve asked for help.”

_ “Jesse, you know you can always ask for help. There are people who want to help you.” _ Cara’s voice murmured in McCree’s ear. He sighed in response, “I greatly apologize but I can’t get the wound on the back of my thigh. Do ya mind helpin’?”

The archer was curious as the cowboy seemed almost bashful. No longer was he looking at him in the face, he just kept his gaze on the different furniture of the room. Hanzo wiped on his own wound one last time before finally pulling his leg from the chair. “Yes, I can. Come here.” His voice was gentle, not as stern or gruff as his tone usually held. McCree limped over, standing next to the man as they both really realized their height difference. Hanzo pulled the chair over, sitting down so he wouldn’t cause strain on his own wound before quickly soaking a paper towel in peroxide once more. Resting a hand on the cowboy’s hip, he steadied him as he applied pressure. McCree jumped, hand grabbing onto Hanzo’s quickly as he hissed from the pain. Hanzo noted how strong the cowboy’s human hand was, calloused from hard work and warm. Quickly reverting his focus, his eyes shifted immediately back to the wound, cleaning it up as some blood dribbled. He handed the towel to McCree instructing him to wipe the front of it while he got gauze. 

Hanzo couldn’t help but remember the days when he had to patch up Genji. His younger brother had always been much more sensitive than he was, a fact that Hanzo was never afraid to remind him of while cautioning him on the importance of not appearing weak in front of the elders. They would judge him too much for it. That had been why they entrusted the clan to Hanzo in the first place. But here was this man, letting himself hiss and groan from the pain that he felt. Finally returning with the gauze in hand, Hanzo sat back down to wrap the man’s wound, precise fingers rolling over the skin of his thigh lightly. He was trying to be as respectful as he could. Sealing it off, Hanzo leaned back in the chair, “There.”

McCree took a step, giving a grin. “Thank ya. I appreciate it.” He sat back on the ottoman, tapping the top of his thigh. “Put your leg here, I’ll wrap your calf.” Hanzo stared at him in bewilderment. McCree simply rose an eyebrow at him before leaning over and gently taking hold of the man’s leg. “I won’t hurt you, Shimada. You’re alright.” He cooed, reaching his metal arm out to take some of the gauze. Hanzo hesitated for a moment before finally giving it to him. “Thank you. If you were a better shot, you could’ve really messed up my leg.” 

McCree laughed, “Wow, alright. I’ll take note for next time then.” 

They sat in calm silence as McCree began to bandage up the archer’s leg. Hanzo found his shoulders releasing tension he didn’t know he was holding in his back. “Are you hungry?” The archer asked softly, McCree looking up at him as he finished wrapping up. 

“A bit, and you?”

Hanzo nodded, “Was simply going to order room service. Would you also care for some tea?”

McCree tilted his head, “Depends, do they have sweet tea?”

“Like a dessert tea?”

McCree laughed, “Ah, no. Sweet tea is an American thing. You take tea and you add like a buttload of sugar or more.”

Immediately, Hanzo found the tension coming back to his body. “Why would you put that much sugar into tea? You might as well drink syrup. Why would Americans ruin an already pleasant drink?” This was just blasphemy to Hanzo. The distress in the archer’s face caused a laugh to escape McCree’s throat, the sound of which forced Hanzo to snap his attention back to the man in front of him.. It was deep and hearty and McCree found himself relaxing a bit more. “I’ll just take water, even whiskey if they have it. “

\---

McCree had to admit, the archer was polite company. They had a full breakfast delivered to them and simply talked over possible plans for Jericho. Though the real question was just in arms reach between the both of them. 

Why go after Jericho?

It was lying on both of their tongues. Neither seemed to want to discuss it. McCree was back into his jeans, the gauze peeping through the hole that he made earlier. The duo was leaning into the small loveseats that the hotel room provided. 

However, while the meal and conversation had been peaceful up to this point, Hanzo was finally brave enough to start the first round of heavier questions. “So, did you work closely with my brother?”

McCree nodded, head resting against the arm rest. “Yes, sir. Worked in the same division. We spent our time in Overwatch’s covert team.”

Hanzo took a deep breath, “And how was he?”

“Meaning?”

Hanzo tried to find the words, possibly the ones he wanted to hear but he already knew the truth. “My brother was angry? Hurt?”

“Conflicted.” McCree breathed, blowing out some smoke from the cigar he had reignited. “He was trying to find his way again. He had moments where he was serious and then times where he was fun and let loose. Though..” He trailed off as he remembered the red eyes Genji once had and the anger and almost remorseless nature that he would carry into battle at times. McCree knew he himself could be cold, but nothing like that. McCree took a breath before he continued. “He had moments where he almost didn’t listen to anyone. Our medic was the only one who could calm him down.” 

Hanzo felt the guilt rise up in his chest, though he forced himself to bite back the emotion he felt. It only reminded him of his new goal in this world; to clean up the damage the Shimada clan had caused all this time. McCree noticed how that answer caused the archer to withdraw before taking in another drag of his cigar.Dropping his head back and letting the smoke billow from his lips, McCree studied the gold bordered ceiling tiles above them, Arabic stars and fillagrey coating them from one side of the room to the other. “So why go after Jericho? Did the Shimada clan really have a stretch out this far?” 

Hanzo took a sip of his tea, enjoying the light bitterness of the taste resting in his mouth. “Of course. Jericho supplied some weapons to the Shimada Clan. We took in a lot of weapons from him in order to distribute in Japan. I’m here to close off any contacts that the Shimada’s once had. He’s a terrible man, won’t be missed. I know he is also getting weapons to a terrorist organization named Talon.”

The room’s air turned thick at the name. McCree’s eyes quickly looked to the man who also held an almost angry frown on his face. The anger that rolled from both of the men seeped into every corner of the room. Hanzo rolled his fingers over his beard. “Talon,” the archer continued, “wanted to restore honor to my family’s name. I refused of course. After I almost..” the guilt choked him a bit, “almost killed my brother, I don’t want that name for my family. I want it to be better. No more unneeded bloodshed. No more innocent lives being stolen over power.”

McCree closed his eyes, using the heat of the cigar to distract him from the slow burning rage in his chest. He had a feeling that Talon could be linked with Cara’s death as they had already been hunting down members of Overwatch well before her murder.. This revelation only caused a small snarl to escape the cowboy’s throat. Hanzo heard it, looking over to the man to see him finally move from his laying position to sit upright. “So you’re against Talon too. I don’t blame you. They’re pieces of shit.” 

Hanzo stayed quiet, watching the cowboy roll the cigar around in his mouth. “Is that why you’re after Jericho? Because he’s Talon?”

McCree’s brown eyes locked in on the archer, smoke releasing from the captivity of his mouth like a dragon lying in wait. “I think Jericho killed my partner. Her name was Cara. She--” A glimpse of her face before she left to go to Morocco flashed in his mind. The last time he saw her. The last time he still felt happy. McCree’s hand balled up into a fist on his knee, a sight Hanzo noted just in case. “It was supposed to be a simple mission. She had gone to try and disrupt a weapons deal, but she never came back. They had reported it was due to an explosion. Told me a building had collapsed with her on it. Though, I recently found out that it wasn’t so. She had been shot before the explosion happened. The explosion only hid her body.”

Hanzo took a breath, pouring some tea into another cup. “So, you’re going to kill Jericho out of revenge?” 

McCree narrowed his eyes, “She deserves justice.”

Hanzo began to dump spoons of sugar into the tea, still remaining calm. “You think revenge is going to give her justice? Is that what she would’ve wanted?” He asked, remembering how he felt when he believed his own brother was dead. How he lashed out against his elders and family. How angry he was for years. 

McCree raised his voice, “She can finally get real answers and know her killer got what he deserved!” He slammed his fist on his thigh which caused pain to shoot up into him, forcing him to still again. He gasped from his nerves screaming at him for such a dumb move but at least it broke the train of anger that escaped him. 

Hanzo let this information sit, stirring the warm tea as much as he could in order to dissolve the many sugar granules in the liquid. He watched the tsunami rage inside of the water, his mind moving just as fast. “I think you should reconsider your actions. Revenge is not as satisfying as you may think.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” McCree sneered. 

Hanzo bit back his initial reaction as he realized that the man’s reply came only from a place of hurt. “I want to kill Jericho to rid this world of one less villain. In order to bring in a new era of peace for the Shimada Clan.”

McCree opened his mouth to say something only to be handed a cup of tea. He hesitantly looked and took it in his big hands, holding the tea cup as careful as he could.

“It’s sweet tea. I dissolved a lot of sugar into it,” Hanzo explained, sitting back against the love seat. McCree looked from the archer and back down to the cup for a second. Bringing it to his lips, he took in a sip of the warm liquid and found a strange mix of sweetened herbal mixture that he bit back his face retching in disgust. He coughed, knocking it back almost like a shot, the sight of which caused Hanzo’s eyes to widen in shock. 

_ Americans are weird... _ Hanzo thought. 

McCree coughed, taking a sip of his water now in order to flush the taste back down. “Will you help me or are you gonna stay in my way then, Robin Hood?” 

Hanzo couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling as he sighed. “We can work together. At least we both agree that then one member of Talon is gone.”

For the rest of the morning, they both went back over their plans. While they both felt this was a weird match up, they couldn’t deny the skill the other had. They just hoped this mission wouldn’t get anymore complicated. 

* * *

The video footage of Jericho’s escape rolled over the screen in Akande’s office. A cowboy and an archer who had been fighting with one another then aimed their sights towards Jericho completely. The same man was barking almost like an aggravated toy poodle into the speaker of Akande’s phone. Akande couldn’t help but give a dark chuckle that Widow felt the vibration of all the way into her own body. 

“Of course my friend. We’ll take care of it,” Akande said, a smile on his lips which meant nothing to anyone in the room. Sombra had her own feet kicked up to rest on the edge of Akande’s desk as she watched the tapes roll over continuously, a sense of amusement rising in her as she watched McCree dip and dive beneath a storage container. She had wondered what he was up to. The only one who seemed angered by any of this was Reyes. Her eyes moved to the black shrouded man. His hand drummed against his bicep, gaze unmoving. 

“You better do something about this, Doomfist! I swear I’ll --” 

Akande cut him off, “You’ll do what, Jericho? Hm? I’ll ignore that desperate threat. For now, stay low for the next few days and I’ll send some better guards to make sure that your next shipment goes according to plan.” With that said, he ended the call. The rest of the team sat quietly, watching as the man observed the security footage once more before turning to look at Reyes, thesmile gone from his face. “Jericho can die. Make sure he does and get the shipment.”

Reyes didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes still glued on to McCree fighting against a few guards. “Consider it done,” The dark growl of the man sounded. Widow couldn’t help but turn her gaze lightly to see a female figure out of the corner of her eye that was leaning up against the wall. “Reaper,” Widow began, crossing her blue arms across her chest. “I think you should let your little pet stay at home for this one.”

Before she got another word in, metal clamped around her jaw. A cold shiver began running down Widow’s spine just enough for her to process that she didn’t even hear the woman move from her spot. “Now little ballerina,” the woman’s voice purred in her ear, her warm breath tickling her neck. “I thought you would be more respectful. After all, that is my gun you’re borrowing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on twitter @ thefox_writes


	4. Ready or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again to my beta readers (:
> 
> Ready or Not,   
> Here I come.  
> You can't hide.   
> -Ready or Not by Mischa

“Okay, okay,” Cara hummed as her hands toyed skillfully with the metallic tomahawk, her gaze set on a wooden target ahead of her. McCree leaned against the wall, watching with pure amusement as Cara did a small hop on her feet to prepare herself. She threw the tomahawk, the blade sinking in the bullseye. Bringing up a gloved hand, her arm trembled slightly for only a moment before the tomahawk came flying back to her. The woman caught it with a triumphant smile on her face. Though, the force was too much as it pulled her back and onto the floor where a groan was released.

McCree couldn’t help but laugh as this was about the tenth time this had happened to her. “You know,” he started, catching a glare from the woman. “I think you would’ve learned after the fifth time. You’re just being stubborn now.”

Cara got up, green eyes still narrowed at him, tomahawk in hand. Jesse chuckled, moving to grab a smoke from his pouch only to hear metal cutting through air. Looking up, he saw the glint of metal beside his head. The reflection it gave off stared back at him for only a moment as he soon saw her figure approach from a distance. He turned his gaze back to her, her boot resting against the wall on one side of him while she took hold of the handle. 

“You wanted to see the testing phase,” she reminded him, keeping him pinned beneath her as she pulled the tomahawk from beside his head. McCree let out a chuckle. “I did. It’s interestin’ to see you work. It also just happens to be funny seein’ one of the top snipers be knocked on their ass over and over again.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, well, it’s real funny to see a cowboy still using spurs without a horse.”

* * *

McCree took a small drag on his cigar, watching the sun begin to lay down into the bed of skyscrapers. The sky slowly mixed purple and orange as the moon began to signal the start of their night. By now, it had easily been at least a few days of staying low while they waited for Jericho to show back up. Jesse almost hated to admit it, but Hanzo was right; he would likely just stay locked away in a bunker somewhere in order to avoid any more complications to his shipments. Turning his gaze back to the archer, he saw the man looking through his duffle bag on top of the small table. He was double checking his equipment, fingers lightly gliding over the arrow tips to check how sharp they were. 

“So cowboy,” Hanzo called out, turning to see that said cowboy was already looking at him. McCree had settled with leaning against the balcony’s railings. “You haven’t told me much about your partner.”

McCcree ran through all the things he could say. He could say she was just a partner, nothing more. A good friend that he wanted to help. But he had a feeling that the archer would call his bluff. Nevertheless, he sighed before deciding on the only real words he could muster “She was just a partner of mine.”

Hanzo shot an eyebrow at him, “So you’re willing to go through all this trouble for a simple partner? I would think an outlaw with over a million dollar bounty on his head wouldn’t stick his neck out for ‘just a partner.’”

McCree wondered if Hanzo knew about the bounty on his head before or after their meeting. A man with ties to the criminal world would surely know something about that well before the public did. He also wondered how deeply he’d looked into his file - if there even was one at all. Hanzo reminded him of Cara a little bit. He was tactical, researching before heading in, and dripped with a weird sense of calm and control mixed with an underlying notion that he could kill you if he so chose to. And yet the way his black hair fell from his undercut made him seem way more approachable than it did up. McCree kind of liked it down, it was cute. Just as the thought finished, McCree found himself quickly erasing that thought as quick as it came.  _ Cute? No, Jesse, you didn’t think that at a time like this. _

McCree realized it was taking him a moment to answer but the archer didn’t press him. However, his dark eyes did look over at him once more, blinking quickly with bewilderment as he noticed that the piercing the archer had on the bridge of his nose was no longer there. “Wait,” McCree finally said. “Where is your piercing?”

Hanzo was slightly impressed that the man noticed. “I will slip it in later. No need to wear it right now.”

“Right now?”

Hanzo nodded as he walked over to the dresser to pick up the metal. “I wear it as a piercing but it's also functional. Any facial recognition system will fail to pick up my face with this on my nose.”

The cowboy stared at him, his eyes growing wide like a child before “Oh shit, that’s pretty cool,” escaped from his lips. 

Hanzo looked at him for a moment before the edges of his face quirked up in a smile and a laugh escaped him. McCree found himself chewing on his cigar in thought. Hanzo’s laugh was deep but oddly relaxing as a smile came over the cowboy’s face. “Well, ya know, it’s just … I guess I never thought something like that could work. Woulda thought you’d need some high class gadget or somethin’.”

Hanzo shook his head. “Sometimes there are simple solutions to big problems.” 

McCree thought about that, his eyes just resting on the archer who turned back to then grab a tie to begin binding his hair back up into a neat bun on the back of his head. As he blinked, the body of Cara flashed in his eyes as if it was her throwing her long black curls into a ponytail. The way she always went quiet just before she left for a mission with plans running through her head. Blinking again, it was back to the archer who moved his hand around the knot,checking that nothing was out of place. 

Pain swirled through the cowboy’s chest. The grip the man had on the railing tightened as his emotions crawled up his throat to choke him. 

_ Please… not now, _ he thought before a shaky breath left him. 

Hanzo heard it, a sound too familiar to the pangs of guilt he’d often let out after the death of his brother. Turning, he saw the downcast stature of the cowboy, his hat covering his face as it stared harshly at the tile flooring. Hanzo stilled a bit, wondering if he should notice what he was going through or not. 

“You’re right.”

Hanzo eyebrows shot up curiously. 

“She wasn’t just a partner.” McCree had finally relented, looking back up at the archer as he crossed his arms so the metal wasn’t digging into his flesh from his grip. “She was way more than that to me. She was my partner, my best friend, and...” They had never put an official name on it. They were just together. He was hers and she was his. Never complicated, never having to explain it to anyone else around them. It never had to be anything else. Just the way they had looked at each other explained it all.“ She was the most amazing woman I ever had the chance to be with.” He found his emotions started to crawl up his throat again, but it subsided as Hanzo came walking over to him, leaning forward on the railing beside him. “It’s okay to miss her,” he murmured. 

It wasn’t just missing her. It was  _ how  _ he missed her. How he missed her voice and the way her touch would caress him as though all those bad deeds he had ever done never mattered. How her smile made the day bearable. McCree sniffed, finding his body begin to shut down as the memories of her that he attempted to repress came spilling over. 

“When I thought I had murdered my brother,” Hanzo started, “I don’t think I moved for a whole week or more. If I did, I don’t remember. I couldn’t even look at my hands. How could I? Especially after knowing what these hands had caused. After so long, I had to accept that I have caused my own downfall.”

McCree could hardly believe that Hanzo would actually share any of this information with him, especially considering how short lived their partnership had been up to this point. And yet, he himself had just done the exact same thing only moments earlier. Neither of them truly knew what else there was to say now, though, as they stood in silence thinking of the route that finally got them to their current destination. McCree looked up, smoke going for some of the stars that began to poke through the sky. They stood like that for a while soaking in each other’s pain. Although the duo might not want to admit it right now, it was nice to know that someone else was going through the motions. 

McCree sighed, “Jericho has to go, Hanzo.”

  
“Does he?”

  
The cowboy tilted his head to the side to look at the archer. Hanzo returned his gaze before staring back out to the courtyard of the hotel. “Was Cara spiteful?”

McCree didn’t know where he was going with this, but something forced him to bite anyway. “Spiteful? No. I don’t think so. Could she be cruel? Sure, when she had to be.”

  
“Was she vengeful?”

  
“No.”

Finally picking up on Hanzo’s meaning an almost snarl left his lips as he turned away from the man. He was yet again trying to convince him that killing Jericho for Cara was not the path to take. “Come on, lets go Robin Hood.”

Hanzo took a second to move, eyes remaining glued to the darkening sky in the distance as a number of brief thoughts rolled through his brain before pushing himself off the railing. “Are you ready to get the revenge you want?”

“Drop it,” McCree growled.

Hanzo wasn’t at all phased by the cowboy snapping at him. He turned back around, watching as McCree double checked his pouches for ammo and other things he might need. Hanzo closed the balcony doors behind him. “It’s merely a question. Maybe think as to why you’re getting so angry about it.”

McCree turned his head back, eyes glaring harshly. Hanzo narrowed his own eyes back at him in retaliation. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re doing.”

McCree took his cigar, extinguishing it into the palm of his metal hand. “I think you should worry more about yourself than what I’m doing.” With that, he went walked out the door, leaving the archer alone with his thoughts. 

“I wonder if Cara handled you way better than I can.” Hanzo murmured to himself. 

* * *

With her arm twisted around her back, it caused Widow to cry out in pain as she was slammed hard into the mat. The force jostled her mind around, her vision blurring as a dark giggle echoed into her ears from above her. A harsh knee dug into the skin between her shoulder blades. She tried to use her free hand to tap on the mat that she was out, knowing that she couldn’t tip the woman off of her. The grip on her arm finally relented, along with the knee on her back as she filled her lungs with air again. 

Widow  pushed herself up on her calloused hands and  groaned, “ _ Salope stupide.* _ ” 

Just as quick as the pressure left, cool metal wrapped around Widow’s throat. A hand embedded in her purple hair with a harsh pull as the metal kept tightening around her windpipe. She tried to breathe, nails scratching at the metal only to cause shrill spikes of sound to fill the room. Everything around her started to blacken, the woman trying to do whatever she could to release the other woman’s hold. 

“Enough!” Reyes’ demonic bark sounded. 

The woman’s metal arm hesitated for a moment before finally letting go of Widow who fell back to the floor with a thud. Trying to breathe, Widow coughed a bit as her opponent stood up next to her. 

“ _ Traitez-moi encore une fois de salope stupide et voyez ce qui se passe.** _ ” Her opponent growled at her, giving her a quick spat. 

“Agent Nalusa, I said, enough,” Reyes growled at her. Her opponent only smirked before adding in a small kick to Widow’s gut, forcing her breath to hitch with the sudden hit. She finally turned onto her back to roll with the pain. 

“You need,” Widow grasped at her lack of breath, “to reprogram her again.”

Nalusa didn’t say anything, just watched Reyes with a dead look in her eyes that even Widow was uncomfortable with. She wondered why they kept her original eye color. A forest green now that held silver with the robotic enhancements that Moira gave her. Widow finally pushed herself to her knees and then to her feet, keeping a distance between her and her opponent. 

“We are about to head out towards Morocco.” Reyes explained. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Widow saw Nalusa’s eyes twitch with a hint of recognition before falling back to a deadpan stare. Widow gave a nod, “I’ll get ready then. Are we expecting company?”

“Always expect company,” Reyes told her before he then looked over Nalusa who waited silently for instruction. “As for you, Nalusa, it’s covert. Take out those that stand in our way. But make sure those in our path are gone without a mess.”

Finally, the woman gave a sly smile over her lips. “Of course, sir.”

Widow went ahead and took her leave, trying to create as much space as she could between her and that... _ thing.  _ She never understood the fascination with her. Moira and Reyes always hovered over her like some prized possession that the world couldn’t see. Even Sombra didn’t seem to like her very much. In fact, she made sure she was never in the same room as Nalusa, which was probably the smartest move. 

Widow looked down at her hands, all toughened from trying to learn how to fight in close quarters. Talon had told her that she was their finest weapon, a perfect assassin. And then Nalusa came out of seemingly nowhere. A trained hound dog who smells blood and eliminates it on sight. 

She brought her hand up to her throat, feeling how tender it was from the headlock that Nalusa had put her in earlier. She wondered if that hound dog had loyalty. If that thing they say is a woman actually knew what side she was on. 

_ She was fully ready to kill me. _

The thought brought a shiver down Widow’s spine. Widow agreed that the name Nalusa fit her. Nalusa or in plain English: Soul Eater. 

  
*Dumb Bitch   
**Call me a dumb bitch again and see what happens.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at @thefox_writes on twitter.


End file.
